


[C] For the Show

by OneofWebs



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Breathplay, Come Inflation, Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, Dom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Dom/sub, Fingerfucking, Humiliation, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Ownership, Public Humiliation, Riding, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Spanking, Stuffing, Sub Jaskier | Dandelion, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:34:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24663181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneofWebs/pseuds/OneofWebs
Summary: Jaskier knows exactly what he's good for. It's not singing or dancing or playing the lute; it's warming Geralt's bed at night when he comes back from a hunt. He knows this, so he's determined to be as good at it as possible.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 18
Kudos: 645





	[C] For the Show

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eternally_Damned](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternally_Damned/gifts).



> THIS was a wild ride. I would say for the most part it's pretty tame. Just a lot of dirty talk, a little bit rough. There is absolutely no aftercare, so mind that, if it bothers you.
> 
> Otherwise. ENJOY!
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated <3
> 
> Note: There is consent outlined in the story but it can be difficult to pick up if you don't know where precisely it is. This story was requested to specifically be written in such a way. Know that it is consensual, what you are about to read, but it can come across as darker in tone. Please be wary!

Jaskier had his face pressed against the wall, his nails digging into the wood grain as he cried out. His trousers and smalls were pulled down just low enough that the whole of his arse was on display, a pretty pink from Geralt’s firm hand. Jaskier let out a strangled cry—Geralt had a hold of him by the back of his neck and used that grip to pull him back and slam him forward again into the wall. Geralt worked a third finger into him, crooking them just right, just  _ hard  _ enough that Jaskier’s knees nearly buckled.

“Geralt—” Jaskier gasped.

Geralt squeezed his hand just a little tighter around the back of Jaskier’s neck to shut him up. “Don’t act like you didn’t ask for this,  _ bard _ ,” he growled, right against Jaskier’s ear. “I could feel your worthless little cock this morning, and you, rutting around like a tavern whore as if last night wasn’t enough for you.”

Geralt pulled his fingers back, before shoving them forward even harder. He spread them out, opening Jaskier right up. Jaskier was helpless to it, pleasure working its way up his spine in such a low burning heat that his legs started to tremble. It was the friction of too little oil used, because Geralt knew how it made him squirm and shiver to be  _ used _ like this. It was what Jaskier begged for, cried for, but he always put up a little bit of a fight. Too much of a brat to bend over and take what he deserved. Geralt knew just how to put him in his place.

Jaskier trembled and moaned through each shift and harsh shove of Geralt’s fingers. Geralt’s skin was rough against him, and it felt so good. Geralt knew just where to press, how to stretch, to leave Jaskier a drooling, shaking mess. But it was Geralt’s hand on his neck that really made his cock twitch; that sort of control was a different kind of fire that Jaskier couldn’t get enough on. He was high on it, putting everything he was into Geralt’s hands. It always ended well.

The only problem was they were on a time limit. Jaskier was supposed to be down in the tavern performing, but instead, he was falling apart under Geralt’s torturous touch.

“Geralt, please—” Jaskier moaned. “I have to—”

“You don’t get to make demands,” Geralt rasped. “Until I’m done with my job here, the only thing you  _ get _ to do is warm my cock, do you understand me?”

Jaskier whimpered, nodding.

“After that, you can go back to fucking whatever tavern wenches and whorish nobles you can find. Until then, you’re  _ mine _ .”

“Geralt—no, no, I wouldn’t,” Jaskier hurried to say. “Just you! Only you—oh!” He broke off into a cry as Geralt crooked his fingers just right, pressing into Jaskier  _ hard _ over that spot inside of him that set everything on fire. Jaskier’s knees almost gave out beneath him. If not for Geralt’s hold around his neck, he would have collapsed to the floor.

“I know,” Geralt muttered, leaning up against Jaskier so his lips brushed the shell of Jaskier’s ear. “You’re going to show everyone today just how you belong to me.”

“Wh-what?” Jaskier tried to turn around, to look at Geralt, but Geralt just pressed him harder into the wall.

“I picked something up for you.” Geralt curled his hand around Jaskier’s neck to grab him by the front, then, pulling him so his back met Geralt’s chest. The sudden change of angle had Jaskier shifting back further onto Geralt’s fingers, and Jaskier gasped. “I figured you needed it. No matter how hard I fuck you, it’s never enough. You’re a greedy little whore, and whores have to be taught how to behave. If we had the time, I’d fuck you full of cum before I plugged you up, but we’ll have to skip that for now.” Against the harshness of his words, Geralt stroked along the line of Jaskier’s jaw.

“Geralt—” Jaskier gasped, but then Geralt’s hard grip returned.

“Beg for it,” Geralt ordered. “You don’t get to say no, so  _ beg _ for it.”

Jaskier’s face flushed a deep red, and he shuddered. He knew he could say no. The way that Geralt stroked along the length of his neck  _ told _ him he could say no, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to see where this was going—he just had to muster together the words to beg for it.

“ _ Please _ .” Jaskier tried, his voice shaking in his throat. “I—I  _ need _ it. Fuck me—use me, plug me up,  _ anything _ , Geralt— _ please _ .” Jaskier gasped as Geralt crooked his fingers in deeper, no intention of taking them out, yet. Jaskier had to work harder.

“I can’t be empty,” Jaskier gasped. “I—I  _ need _ you. I need you to stuff me. I want to show everyone what a dirty fucking  _ slut _ I am, Geralt,  _ please _ . Please, please—” Jaskier let out a strangled cry as Geralt finally pulled his fingers back.

Jaskier squirmed at the sudden emptiness. Oh, he felt hollow and stretched, like he needed something. Geralt didn’t have him waiting wrong. With an amused chuckle at just how desperate Jaskier was, Geralt produced a thick, sleek object from his bag. It was a fine, lacquered wood. Smooth and cold with a tapered bottom. Custom made and worth a good bit of coin, but Geralt kept that to himself. He didn’t need Jaskier to start feeling like he was  _ special _ , or something. That would just make him more unbearable than he already was.

“Open,” Geralt ordered, and Jaskier’s jaw dropped. “It’s only going to be as wet as you make it, little bird,” Geralt whispered, pressing right up against the side of Jaskier’s face. His breath was hot, and Jaskier shivered in response.

Jaskier took the plug right into his mouth, no hesitation or complaints. He licked the length of it before closing his lips around it, sucking on it. Geralt let him have it, too. Just let him stand there, empty and trembling, with the plug in his mouth. Jaskier sucked on it dutifully, keeping his eyes on Geralt as he did. Geralt’s eyes were intense, and he looked hungry. They were almost out of time, though. That was what prompted Geralt to tear the plug out of Jaskier’s mouth instead of letting him finish.

Geralt pushed Jaskier into the wall again and tugged at his hips, leaving him bent over and grasping at the wood grains with his nails. Geralt didn’t give him any warning before he pressed the tapered plug against his already stretched hole. Jaskier’s jaw dropped open at the feeling of it sinking into him. It was barely wet, and the burn was almost too much for Jaskier to handle. But he did, and his cock twitched with growing interest the deeper the plug sank into him.

Once it was perfectly nestled inside of him, Geralt delivered one hefty swat to Jaskier’s arse. Jaskier nearly shouted in response—it just jostled everything inside of him and made his knees weak, again. He was ready to collapse and just spend the rest of the morning with his own hand around his cock, if Geralt wouldn’t take care of him. Geralt didn’t even give him a moment to consider that. Instead, he yanked Jaskier’s smalls up, followed by his trousers, then whirled Jaskier around, pressing his back into the wall.

In one fell swoop, Geralt leaned forward to capture Jaskier in a kiss, one hard enough that Jaskier’s head knocked into the wall and he groaned. While they kissed, Geralt tied Jaskier’s laces as tight as he could manage, then yanked on his trousers once more for that final rush that took Jaskier’s breath right from his throat. His trousers were tight, already, but the way Geralt always handled them made them tighter. No one would be able to see the plug, but the seam of Jaskier’s trousers still rested right up against it and made for that added bit of pressure.

There was no way Jaskier would forget what was inside of him. When Geralt pulled back, taking hold of him by the chin and really looking at him, he knew Jaskier wouldn’t forget who put it there, either. Geralt couldn’t help the twinge of a smirk on his lips. Jaskier was flushed and dazed, squirming and shifting around the weight inside of him.

“I bet you want to hear what a good boy you are,” Geralt muttered. Jaskier looked at him, immediately, always too easy to read and too easy to play with. “But you know you’re not,” Geralt continued. “You’re a disgusting little whore who’s about to play for a tavern full of people with a hard cock and a plugged-up arse. I’ll be watching, too.”

Jaskier’s eyes went wide, and his brows shot up.

“Put on a good show. Show me how good of a little whore you can be, and I’ll decide what happens to you after.”

“Geralt—”

Geralt squeezed around his chin, keeping him from saying a word more.

“Don’t even try to pretend like you don’t want me to let that whole tavern fuck you. Tie you down to a table and let someone shove that lute so far up your ass that you’re ruined. A loose, desperate little whore.”

Jaskier’s eyes were already starting to well with tears, but Geralt brushed them away. Then, he stepped away, dragging Jaskier from the wall and out into the middle of the room. Jaskier moved tentatively, trying to learn how to walk with something so thick nestled inside of him. Every shift of his legs, of his trousers, he could  _ feel _ how deep it was, how it rubbed up against his walls and left him a bit breathless. Still, he managed to grab his lute. Geralt sent him off with another firm swat, one that had Jaskier yelping as it pressed the plug in deep.

Jaskier didn’t dare try to adjust himself. Not with Geralt skulking right behind him. He didn’t want to risk what would happen if Geralt caught him trying to hide the fact that his cock was still hard. He was even sure that the way his trousers were situated that  _ anyone _ could see a hard, foreign object between his cheeks. The risk of a punishment was far worse than the idea that he was about to step into a crowd of people and make a fool of himself. Jaskier just sucked in a deep breath. This was something he would have to manage in the best way that he could.

Every strum of the lute was painful. Every shift and swerve were a reminder—tortuously pleasurable—that he was performing for Geralt’s amusement. He could see Geralt, sitting in the back of the tavern,  _ watching _ him with those eyes. If Geralt wasn’t watching, Jaskier would have simply stood in the corner of the tavern, playing and singing right along without a care in the world. But that wouldn’t have been a normal performance. Geralt was watching, and he  _ expected _ a normal performance.

He wanted to see Jaskier flitting about the room and making a fool of himself, like he usually did. If Geralt wanted a performance, then he’d get a performance. Jaskier just had to force down the strange looks on his face and dance through the strain. Every move, every shift, every turn on his heel—Jaskier could feel the plug inside of him. His face was flushed, and he knew from a few interested glances, so to say, that his cock was visible through an outline in his trousers.

Everyone in the tavern could think that this stupid, silly little bard got off on his own performances, but it was making eye contact with Geralt in the back of the room that had him shivering, had him tripping over his words and forgetting his notes. Oh, the patrons laughed, and they drank, and they laughed again, but Jaskier was getting coin for his stammering and waddling. He looked exactly like the type of fool who’d shoved something up his arse before coming to perform. He must have liked being stared at and laughed at.

Geralt was more than amused. Watching Jaskier cross his legs and blush like some maiden was high on the list of things he enjoyed watching with his morning meal. Jaskier had  _ begged _ for it, after all. Maybe Geralt had pressured him into it, but he always had a choice. Somewhere, deep down, Geralt knew Jaskier liked this. Looking like he was about to cry in front of a room full of people because, oh, Geralt was  _ mean _ to him. If there was one thing that really got Jaskier off, it was pretending to be such an indignant little brat that Geralt had to take him over the knee, every now and again.

Geralt had intended to have his morning meal and go about his day. There was business to attend to in this little shit-hole town, after all. It was, however, the type of business that would require him to stay for a day or several. The type of business that was only offered by people who  _ didn’t _ hate Witchers, but rather, valued their assistance and their skills was rare, but it was certainly the type that Geralt preferred. Still, it wasn’t quite enough to take his eye off of this rather spectacular performance.

Interested was an understatement; Geralt’s cock was straining against the confines of his own trousers. He was well hidden by armor, but even he had to make a shift or two. Jaskier was doing so well with not just bursting into tears. Geralt might have liked to see that, though. He could see every little twitch and jolt Jaskier was making, already. Pure pleasure. Jaskier was wracked with it. With flushed skin and dazed eyes, Geralt knew that Jaskier couldn’t be far from coming in his own trousers, right in front of a crowd of people.

Settling back into his chair, Geralt decided that was exactly what Jaskier was going to do. Once he had, Geralt would have the rest of his fun in the privacy of their little inn room. It would be scandalous, but it was so easy to change stories. They could do anything, and in the next week, the story would be different. Realizing that had been something dangerous, because Geralt then realized the extent of what he could do.

As it were, he just sat back and watched. Every move was one step closer to Jaskier’s ultimate humiliation. The plug inside of him was held firm, rubbing against his walls and hitting that spot inside of him that always left him breathless and stupid. Geralt knew just what he’d done, and watching it unfold before him was more than satisfying. It was downright devilish.

Jaskier’s face was red, and his words were slurred. His movements were faltering and jerky, at best. His knees were shaking, and each time he stepped in one direction or the other, it was a threat that his entire leg would collapse out from under him. If that happened, he’d be nothing but fresh meat. Anyone in the tavern who could get to him would be free to tear down his trousers and see what little secret he was hiding—his stretched, red hole. Ready and just  _ ripe _ for fucking.

The problem was that thought alone was enough to Jaskier trembling all over again. Would Geralt come to his rescue? Would Geralt come to his rescue and then  _ show _ the whole tavern why it was they couldn’t have him? Jaskier could imagine it, though he tried not to. Every image that flashed through his head made his song worse and the strain in his groin unbearable, but he couldn’t stop himself. He could  _ see _ Geralt coming for him, pushing him down onto his knees, his face shoved onto the floor, and ripping down his trousers.

Jaskier came with a strangled ending note of his song, right there in front of the people. None of them seemed entirely privy to  _ why _ his final sung word had been so strange, but Jaskier knew. Jaskier knew, and the knowledge turned his entire face red and made him weak. He didn’t think he could perform another song, and thankfully, he didn’t have to.

In that same moment, Geralt had decided he was done with his morning meal, and he deserved a bit of a  _ treat _ for watching what he’d just watched. Before Jaskier could even begin to think about playing another song, Geralt pushed himself up from his chair and stalked across the room.

“Show’s over,” Geralt announced, taking Jaskier by the arm.

Nobody would dare argue with a Witcher, Jaskier included. When Geralt tugged on him, Jaskier followed. He stumbled and tripped over himself, trying to take the walk  _ slow _ , but Geralt wasn’t having it. He forced Jaskier to move quickly, even with that uncomfortable fullness, wetness. He didn’t stop the tugging until they’d reached their room again. Then, he tossed Jaskier forward, who only barely managed to catch himself on the edge of the bed. Now that they were alone, it didn’t take more than a second for Jaskier’s waterworks to start.

“They—I—” Jaskier tripped all over himself, trying to scramble words together.

“Shut up,” Geralt commanded, stalking across the room. As he did so, he started to work on his armor—his boots and his weapons. “You’re nothing more than a dirty little whore, aren’t you? Coming like that in front of all those people? I bet you were thinking about it, too. What if they saw you? What if one of them got a little too personal?”

Jaskier trembled, shaking his head. “N-No! I don’t—I wouldn’t want that—”

His voice cut out as Geralt reached him, bending him over the side of the bed and tearing down his trousers. Jaskier was helpless to fight back; Geralt’s show of strength was enough to turn him straight to mush. All he could do was dig his fingers into the bedsheets and arch his back just a little higher. The sudden rush of cool air had him shivering; he knew just how exposed he was. Geralt grabbed his arse cheeks and pulled them apart, massaging the mounds of flesh beneath the rough of his fingertips.

“You want what I tell you you want,” Geralt rasped. “If I told you to get down on your knees and service every man or woman who came to you, you would  _ beg _ me for the privilege, wouldn’t you?”

Jaskier shivered, trying to hide his face in the blankets. Tears were pouring down his cheeks, but Geralt didn’t seem to care. If anything, it just aroused him further, to see Jaskier in such a state of embarrassment that he was sobbing with it.

“I could make more money whoring you out to old men than you do playing your lute. Look at you.” Geralt almost sounded marveled as he peeled Jaskier’s cheeks apart. “A cock’s wasted on you, Jaskier. You’d do yourself better with a cunt in a whorehouse.”

Jaskier sobbed, but he didn’t argue. If anything, he tried to better present himself. He arched his back and pressed his arse back towards Geralt and his rough touch. That only served to better prove Geralt’s point, and he couldn’t help but smirk at Jaskier’s desperate behavior. Geralt took hold of his plug and forced it forward—it couldn’t go any deeper, but Geralt could certainly make that pressure unbearable. Jaskier’s jaw dropped open, and he  _ cried _ as that pleasure built.

“Geralt— _ Geralt _ —” Jaskier gasped, but Geralt just kept pressing.

It was with a sudden yank only seconds later that Geralt removed the plug entirely. Jaskier yelped, his tears renewed as he was left with a sudden burn, a sudden emptiness. All he could do was lay there, sobbing into the blankets, as he listened to Geralt continue to undo his belts and his laces. He only had to wait a moment, and after that moment, his eyes went wide at the hot press of Geralt’s cockhead right against his hole. Jaskier wasn’t given any more warning than that before Geralt pushed forward.

Geralt dug his thumbs right into the skin around Jaskier’s rim, pulling him open as he breached forward. Jaskier cried out at the sudden stretch, the sudden burn. Geralt didn’t stop the assault until his hips were flush against Jaskier’s arse. Then, he took Jaskier by the hips and held him tight enough that Jaskier knew it was going to bruise in the morning. But that’s what he wanted. The more marks he could have on his body as  _ proof _ that he belonged to Geralt, the happier he’d be.

He buried his face into the mattress as the onslaught began. Geralt snapped his hips forward, pulling a cry right out of Jaskier’s throat. He started slow, but every thrust was purposeful and hard. Geralt knew just how to angle his hips, just the right way to  _ fuck _ forward to leave Jaskier a drooling mess in the blankets. With the grip Geralt had on Jaskier’s hips, he could pull Jaskier back to meet every hard thrust, force him to take it deeper, harder. All Jaskier did was drop his jaw open and  _ cry _ .

“Beg for it,” Geralt rasped, reaching out to grab Jaskier by his hair. “Tell me how much you want this and  _ maybe  _ I don’t let every lowlife in this place fuck you senseless.”

Jaskier yelped. “Geralt! No, no— _ please _ , don’t. I want to be yours, yours—just yours. Fuck me, Geralt,  _ please _ —oh!” Jaskier cried out, clenching down around Geralt as he pressed forward just right.

Geralt grabbed his hips harder,  _ fucked _ harder. He kept that same angle, the head of his cock hitting right into Jaskier’s prostate each time their hips slapped together. Jaskier’s entire body was trembling, high off his embarrassing orgasm. He was sensitive, and every grind of their hips had his cock rutting down into the rough sheets. Each time Geralt jolted his body with one of those powerful thrusts, he could feel the rub of the sheets through his thin shirt, right over his nipples.

“H-harder,” Jaskier rasped. “Geralt—Geralt,  _ use  _ me, please. Please—please. I want this so bad. I have to—I need you—”

“Yeah?” Geralt challenged, yanking Jaskier’s head back by his hair, again. “Can’t get enough of my cock, can you?”

Jaskier shook his head. “I-I can’t! You—only you. I-it’s so big, I can’t—” Jaskier’s voice broke in his throat and he cried.

He could feel another orgasm already budding, threatening to take him over the edge and leaving him a blubbering mess. That was precisely what Geralt  _ wanted _ . He leaned forward, pressing closer with his leg bent up on the edge of the bed. Now, instead of those hard, punishing thrusts, Geralt ground into Jaskier as deep as he could. The way Jaskier clenched around him had him groaning—such a tight, wet little hole. Geralt would never get tired of it, of pushing Jaskier down and just  _ taking _ him.

Jaskier always made the prettiest cries, the prettiest faces. Geralt ground deep enough into him that it might have hurt, if Jaskier wasn’t already so loose—if he didn’t get off on the slight burn underneath the pleasure. He took everything he was given so perfectly, spasming around Geralt’s cock and squeezing him just right.

The force of it all had pushed Jaskier farther up on the bed, and Geralt just climbed up after him, straddling around his thighs while he just fucked deeper. With Jaskier’s legs pressed together, the pressure was there. It had him trembling, shivering like some wanton whore who was desperate to get her pay. Geralt leaned over him, wrapping a hand around his chin, and kept his head pulled back while he fucked even deeper, harder—the sound of their skin slapping together all that was between them.

Geralt grunted with his own pleasure, even moaned when Jaskier clenched down around him just right. Jaskier’s back was arched just perfectly, his face all red and contorted with pleasure.

“You’re such a fucking whore,” Geralt growled, leaning down to press against the side of Jaskier’s face. “But you’re my whore, aren’t you?”

Jaskier nodded. “ _ Yours _ ,” he gasped. “Geralt,  _ fuck _ , yours. I—”

“I know,” Geralt interrupted. “No one else can fuck you like this. You’re too loose. I ruined you, didn’t I?”

Jaskier whimpered. When Geralt let him go, Jaskier buried his face in the sheets and bunched them up in his hands. It muffled his cries, but Geralt didn’t care. He could still hear every gasping moan as he fucked into that nice, tight hole Jaskier had for him. He grabbed Jaskier by the shoulders and used that leverage to pull him back into every thrust. He went fast, now, shaking Jaskier’s body with the pure force that he could muster.

“ _ Fuck _ !” Jaskier cried. He titled his head, trying to suck down a full breath of air. His eyes were glazed over, drool dripping from his lips. He was teetering right on the edge of his orgasm, and Geralt was intent on bringing him over.

Geralt grabbed him by the neck, both hands wrapped around just tight enough that Jaskier was suddenly rasping for his breath. It was just what he needed, that moment of complete and total helplessness. He could feel every inch of Geralt’s cock sinking inside of him, every ridge and vein protruding from it. The drag of it was intense, the hands around his neck. Jaskier could feel his sight going hazy, and that was when he cried out with a sudden wave of pleasure. His whole body convulsed with his orgasm, crying out. The tears came back with the force of it, the hot pleasure that just took him.

Geralt followed soon after, his hips jerking, his rhythm faltering, as he came right inside. He filled Jaskier, continuing to buck his hips as his orgasm worked through him. Jaskier took it. All of it. With eyes closed and jaw open, face dragging along the sheets. He looked so messed up. So drunk on his pleasure high.

After Geralt finished, he pulled out of Jaskier and delivered one hard slap to his arse. Jaskier didn’t have the strength left to do more than jolt with the sudden rush of pain. He was entirely boneless, limp, and he let Geralt do whatever he wanted. That entailed Geralt rolling him over so he could strip Jaskier down, completely naked. Then, with another slap, he had Jaskier mustering whatever strength he had left to climb up the bed and lay down in the pillows, as was proper.

From his place in the bed, Jaskier watched as Geralt finished disrobing himself, too. He made quick work of it, hardly caring about putting on some show for Jaskier. Though, he did watch Jaskier. Kept a keen eye on him, trailing down the curve of his torso, his hips, his thighs.

“I think it’s best you don’t perform for the rest of our stay here,” Geralt said, finally climbing into bed. “I have a better job for you.”

Jaskier didn’t say anything, just closed his eyes and grabbed at the pillow as Geralt settled in behind him. They were both stark naked, and as Geralt moved, Jaskier could still feel the heat of his cock as it brushed his thighs, against the swell of his ass. He was waiting for the inevitable—that Geralt was going to make good on his threat and tell him to spend the rest of their stay whoring himself out instead of playing his lute. Jaskier would do whatever Geralt told him to do, even if it was something that made his stomach twist up.

Suddenly, Geralt was dragging the head of his cock between Jaskier’s cheeks. That brought him back to reality with a gasp, his eyes going wide.

“I want you to stay in this room,” Geralt muttered, almost dangerously. “I’m going to keep you plugged up and naked—ready for me when I come back from my work. How does that sound?”

Jaskier let out a trembling moan as Geralt pressed into him again. Geralt’s cock was still hard, like he wasn’t done with Jaskier. He pressed forward until they were flush together, then settled down with his arms around Jaskier, tightly, to keep him in place as his hips started to move. It set off every nerve in Jaskier’s body. He was so sensitive, but Geralt didn’t care. Jaskier didn’t care, either. He wanted whatever Geralt wanted. He found the strength to roll his hips back and meet Geralt’s beginning thrusts, trying to provide whatever pleasure he could.

“If you’re  _ good _ ,” Geralt grumbled, “we’ll see what you get afterward. Until I’m done, your job is to lie in this bed and prove how much you want to be my little slut, got it? I want a cock warmer out of you. You’ll do what I say, when I say, and I won’t hear one single complaint, will I?”

Jaskier shuddered, gasping as Geralt snapped his hips forward. “A-anything you say,” Jaskier managed. “I—I want to please you, Geralt.  _ Please _ , let me—”

Geralt clapped a hand over Jaskier’s mouth, then, effectively shutting him up. With his free hand, he grabbed Jaskier’s hips and went at him all over again. He fucked Jaskier hard, fast; Jaskier’s cries were all muffled by Geralt’s hand, but his tears still dripped down as the sensitivity got to him. He could feel  _ everything _ from the brush of Geralt’s chest into his back, the tickle of hair and the clenching muscles of his abdomen, to the feel of his cock sinking inside again and again and again.

Jaskier trembled, gripping into the blankets. His hips were bucking erratically, outside of his own control. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to get away from Geralt’s onslaught or towards it, but Geralt’s hand on his hip made the decision for him. Geralt kept Jaskier exactly where he wanted him, the perfect, tight hole to sink into until his hips were stuttering again. Jaskier cried out into Geralt’s hand as Geralt came inside of him. The hot rush of it, the sloppy, dirty feeling—he felt so full, so  _ used _ . It left him feeling light and happy, a feeling he was sure would last through the day.

He expected Geralt to pull back and go about his day. It was still midmorning. Instead, Geralt just pressed closer, until Jaskier’s arse was nestled right in the curve of his hips, his cock as deep inside of Jaskier as it could be. Jaskier squirmed, but Geralt held him still. Held him close. Held him by the chin so his head was tilted back into Geralt’s chest.

“You’ll keep my cock as long as I want you to,” Geralt rasped, “and you’ll like it.”

Jaskier shuddered and nodded. “Thank you,” he muttered. “Thank you, Geralt.”

Geralt settled down for a quick nap, pressing his face into the back of Jaskier’s neck. Jaskier tried to settle down as much as he could, but it was hard. Geralt was still inside of him, and every passing second, Jaskier could feel his cock softening. It was an  _ odd _ feeling, but he did like it. He tried to be subtle about how much he liked it when he worked his hips back, trying to keep as much of Geralt’s cock inside of him as he could. Eventually, though, sleep took him.

When Jaskier woke up, it was with a hard gasp as he was suddenly being forced face first into the pillows. Geralt was on top of him, cock hard inside of him, and  _ fucking _ . Jaskier didn’t know what time it was. He didn’t know how long they’d been asleep. All he knew was that Geralt was suddenly pinning him down to the bed by his wrists and fucking into him with such a renewed strength that Jaskier’s entire body shook with it,  _ trembled _ as Geralt bottomed out each time.

His thrusts were hard, fast, and he paid absolutely no mind to Jaskier’s pleasure. He didn’t care if Jaskier was hard, if he was  _ enjoying _ this—all he cared about was finding his own pleasure, and he held Jaskier down until he did. It didn’t take long for Geralt to come again, but when he did, Jaskier cried out. He felt so ridiculously full, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He hadn’t been allowed out of bed since that morning when Geralt forced him down, and now, he was paying the price in that uncomfortable pressure that just intensified every single little thing he was feeling.

Then, Geralt pulled out and stepped off the bed, completely. No words. Nothing for Jaskier. Jaskier even thought that he was just going to get cleaned up, dressed, and leave, but there was a sudden cold pressure against his hole that told him otherwise. Geralt had found that plug, wherever it had ended up, and had forced it right back into Jaskier. Once it was secure, he drew his hand back and slapped Jaskier’s arse, making him yelp and scramble to get  _ away _ .

“You will be in this spot when I get back,” Geralt warned. “I don’t care if you have to piss yourself to do it, but you  _ will _ be here when I get back, won’t you?”

Jaskier’s face flushed a deep red. “Y-Yes, Geralt,” he squeaked.

Geralt rewarded him with another hard swat before he went about his day. Jaskier just laid there as he watched. Geralt got cleaned up, then dressed, and worked his armor back on. All without a single glance towards Jaskier. Not a single kind word, not a touch, or a kiss. Jaskier felt dirty, like he really was just some nasty whore. It only made him want to try harder. To please Geralt so greatly that Geralt had no choice but to praise him.

So, he’d be good. He’d make sure he was in this bed, on his knees with his arse pressed up in the air, when Geralt came back. He’d be the epitome of a picture-perfect whore. He’d please Geralt as many times as he could, make sure he was taken care of. Jaskier was  _ desperate _ to do whatever it took to have Geralt’s attention; he knew he’d have to work for it. That was all a part of the game.

Geralt didn’t come back until late, and he was a mess. Whatever it was he’d done, Jaskier knew it must have been rough. His armor looked roughed up, and  _ he _ looked like he needed a good relaxing night. Or, perhaps, the perfect place to sink his cock and work out whatever frustration and tension he worked up for the day. Even if he didn’t even  _ look _ at Jaskier as he stepped into their room, Jaskier still wanted to please him. He was right where he’d promised Geralt he be—in that bed.

Jaskier worked himself up onto his knees, his face resting on the blankets. His back was arched enticingly, his eyes already glossed over with  _ need _ . He hadn’t touched himself. He hadn’t done anything but drink and eat and think of what would happen when Geralt came back for him. As it were, his cock was hard, hanging between his thighs. Jaskier didn’t even care. He was more focused on other things. He reached behind himself, grabbing his own arse cheeks and spreading them open to show off that plug still deep inside of him.

Still, Geralt didn’t look at Jaskier until the precise moment he meant to, and that was only after he’d cleaned up. He walked over to the bed naked, without so much as a minute to admire the pretty picture Jaskier had painted for him, his arse spread open and his hole loose and red. Instead, Geralt only roughly removed the plug and dropped it on the bed. He spat over Jaskier’s hole before straightening up behind him, taking a hold of his own cock and guiding it forward.

With the tip of his cock he caught the dripping spit and the spend and forced it right back into Jaskier as he snapped his hips. In one hard movement, Geralt had bottomed out and left Jaskier dazed with the suddenness of it all. The air knocked right out of him with the force of Geralt’s first thrust, and that set the pace for their coupling. Geralt was hard, fast, and Jaskier never could quite find the air he needed to stay cognizant. He just let Geralt take control, take  _ him _ . Over and over again—whatever Geralt needed.

Geralt fucked him hard with fingers digging into blooming bruises, keeping them nice and dark and fresh. Jaskier just moaned through each thrust, trying to work his own hips back. He clenched around Geralt, moaned for him. He did anything he could think to just please Geralt, and that included biting down on his tongue to keep himself quiet. Geralt wanted a cock warmer, not a noisy, mouthy whore. Jaskier kept his eyes closed, his lips, and  _ behaved _ .

In return, Geralt wrenched his arms over the small of his back and used the leverage to just fuck Jaskier  _ harder _ . He listened to the litany of gasping whimpers, of moans and cries, until Jaskier spasmed around him with a sudden orgasm. Coming untouched like the perfectly trained slut he was. Geralt couldn’t be more pleased.

He dragged Jaskier down to his side, both of them falling to the bed. Geralt pressed into Jaskier as deep as he could, grinding forward with those last few thrusts to finish himself off. Then, without so much as a  _ word _ , Geralt settled down to sleep. Just like their nap earlier, he didn’t bother to pull out of Jaskier. Jaskier could sleep the whole night with Geralt’s cock inside of him, and he’d like it.

Jaskier was woken up in much the same manner the following day—with Geralt fucking him straight into the mattress. Geralt fucked him until he came, again, and then pulled back to immediately shove the plug in him. It was getting uncomfortable, but Jaskier didn’t dare complain. He stayed there on his knees until Geralt was done with him, and then stayed like that while Geralt stepped away to clean up and get ready.

“You’ll be ready when I get back,” Geralt said, without looking at Jaskier. “Today should be our last day here, and I intend to make the most of it.”

“Anything,” Jaskier whimpered.

That pleased Geralt, and he left not a moment after.

The day remained much the same. Jaskier just had to get through it, doing whatever he could to pass the time. Geralt was gone for the whole day. Just when Jaskier could assume Geralt would return, he got back on the bed and presented himself, just as he thought he should. His face was in the pillows and arse in the air. He pulled his cheeks open again, too. He thought Geralt had liked that bit particularly. A moment later, the door opened, and Jaskier couldn’t help but smile.

There was hardly a moment between Geralt entering and him on the bed. All he’d done was remove his weapons, his armor, and his boots. He was still entirely dressed, but climbed his way onto the bed, regardless. All at once, he pushed Jaskier over onto his side, causing him to gasp. He grabbed Jaskier by his legs, pulling him around until he was on his back, thighs spread wide open around Geralt, and entirely on display. The manhandling had done more than enough to jostle the plug inside of him and start his pretty moans.

“I want you to  _ scream _ for me,” Geralt said, yanking Jaskier down by his thighs. He pulled Jaskier up in just the right way that he could grind his clothed cock right over that plug and make Jaskier whimper.

“Answer me,” Geralt ordered. “Or I’ll fuck that plug so deep into you, you’ll never get it out.”

“G-Geralt!” Jaskier cried. “Please don’t— _ please _ let me have your cock. I’ll scream for you; I will. I want to please you.  _ Please _ —”

Geralt grinned something devilish. He leaned over Jaskier, dragging his hands down Jaskier’s chest. He pinched those pert little nipples—they were red, swollen. Geralt could already see it in his mind, the perfect picture of Jaskier lying in the bed, stuffed full of that plug, and playing with his own nipples to bring himself over the edge. He was so perfectly trained to never touch his cock. It was worthless, anyway. He’d never get another chance to use it, not when he was so focused on being the perfect little whore hole for Geralt to fuck.

That was exactly what Geralt planned to do. He pulled his own cock out of his trousers before yanking out the plug. He tossed it off to the side, again, then grabbed Jaskier’s legs. He threw them up over his shoulders, then guided his cock right into that stretched, wet hole. Jaskier was  _ leaking _ with the spend still inside him, and it made the slide wet, easy. Geralt bottomed out with one hard thrust, then bent Jaskier in half as he really started to fuck.

The new position had Jaskier crying out with the pleasure, the pressure. Every drag of Geralt’s cock just worked that mess deeper into him, and he could  _ feel _ it. Worse, he swore he could even see it, in the slight bulge of his stomach. Geralt could see it too, and he took advantage with just the slight touch of his hands. He pressed down over Jaskier’s lower stomach, over his pelvis, and it was enough to have Jaskier  _ screaming _ , just like he’d promised.

“You’re so fucking wet,” Geralt said. “Look at you—this is all you’re good for, isn’t it? Perfect for taking cock. How many loads have you taken, and you’re still begging for more?”

Jaskier trembled, crying out. “Geralt— _ please _ , more. More! I need it, I need you—everything you have, I want it—”

“Oh, I know you do.” It sounded like a threat, and Geralt pressed down on Jaskier once more. It was almost enough that he swore he could feel his own cock inside of Jaskier, moving,  _ fucking  _ him nice and hard, like he deserved. Jaskier’s useless little cock was bobbing between his thighs, but Geralt ignored it.

He fucked Jaskier harder, listening to the way that he keened, the way that he cried. It was perfect, and it gave Geralt one more devilish idea. He dropped Jaskier’s legs down from his shoulders, let them rest around his hips, and moved. In one swift movement, he’d grabbed Jaskier and flipped them, entirely. Geralt settled down on the bed, and Jaskier was sitting on top of him, the sudden change having impaled him farther down Geralt’s cock. Jaskier’s little cock spurted from the pleasure—he was desperate for an orgasm. Geralt had no idea if Jaskier had come or not in the past couple of days and was starting to believe that maybe he hadn’t.

“Show me how good you ride,” Geralt ordered. “Show me how  _ desperate _ you are to take cock.”

Jaskier shuddered, but he nodded. There wasn’t a single moment of hesitation. He braced himself on Geralt’s chest and started to work his hips back. He bounced, no better than a desperate whore, and took Geralt as deep as he could each time he fell back down. He worked his hips in little circles, clenching around Geralt as he did. His head rolled back as he moaned, and that was when Geralt grabbed him by the hips and made him work  _ harder _ .

Geralt snapped his hips up to meet Jaskier, each time he fell back down. The force was enough to send Jaskier falling forward, all of his strength gone. He gripped his fists into Geralt’s shirt and just tried to hold on for the ride, crying out each time Geralt’s hips slapped against him.

“You’re worthless,” Geralt growled. “Whores don’t  _ get  _ tired, but I guess I can make an exception.”

“I’m sorry—” Jaskier gasped. “I’ll do better. I’ll try harder, please don’t—”

“Don’t what?” Geralt hummed, carding a hand through Jaskier’s hair and using the grip to yank his head back. He watched tears well up at the edge of Jaskier’s eyes.

“D-don’t let anyone else have me. I’ll do better. I want to please you—that’s all I want.  _ Please _ , Geralt, I’ll be so good—” Jaskier cried out as Geralt bottomed out inside him, again.

“My personal little whore, hm?” Geralt raised an eyebrow. “I think I’ve got room for one. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. I’ll keep you stuffed and filled, just the way you like.”

Jaskier’s entire body trembled. “ _ Please _ ,” he begged.

Geralt took a tight hold of Jaskier’s hips and fucked him with renewed vigor. Jaskier couldn’t even sit up properly, but it didn’t even matter. He went limp in Geralt’s arms, the perfect hole to fuck. And Geralt fucked him, hard. Fast. Their skin slapping together, Jaskier crying through all of it. Geralt nipped along Jaskier’s cheek, over his ear. Anything he could think to say, he said it—Jaskier was worthless. Nothing more than a fucked open hole. He was so loose and wet, Geralt was sure he could take another cock in him.

He had plans to get more toys, and he whispered those plans right into Jaskier’s ear. He’d make sure he  _ could _ fit two cocks into him, even if one were fake. He’d tie Jaskier up like he was no better than a horse and leave him out in the open with his trousers down and a wooden cock inside of him. He could fuck himself all day while Geralt was fighting monsters, and when Geralt was back, bloody and smelling like blood and guts, he’d work his cock right alongside that fake one. And Jaskier would  _ beg _ for it, like the dirty little slut he was.

Jaskier couldn’t do anything but nod and moan. He was too far gone, too caught up in the pleasure. Every thrust inside of him had his whole body shaking, his hips rutting back against the feeling and working his own cock into Geralt’s stomach. When Geralt finally came, the feeling of spend rushing inside of him was enough to send Jaskier over the edge. He was so sensitive, so  _ full _ , that all he could do was cry against Geralt’s shoulder as he orgasmed.

It was intense, and Geralt didn’t stop fucking him until they were both done. Jaskier wasn’t awake for a moment longer, hardly comfortable in their current position, but too overcome with exhaustion to care. He fell asleep against Geralt’s chest, with Geralt’s cock still inside of him. In return, Geralt stroked his hair back and shifted until  _ he _ was comfortable. It hadn’t taken as long as he thought to train Jaskier to do this—to just  _ live _ with something inside of him. Geralt was already thinking of all the ways he could take advantage of this.

His first plan happened in the morning, promptly after Jaskier was finally allowed to clean himself up. He’d walked out from the tub stark naked, and Geralt just unceremoniously grabbed him and bent him over the table. Before he could get dressed, Geralt worked that plug right back into him. He was open enough to take it, but still tight enough to keep it snug inside of him. Then, Jaskier could get dressed.

As they readied to leave, Jaskier was even walking normally—almost. He still shifted every now and again, trying to get used to the feeling inside of him, but he didn’t  _ look _ like some whore with a plug in his arse. It was perfect, really. It meant Geralt could make him wear that wherever they went, for whatever he did. And he had a plan for just how he would see it in action, first.

Outside, Roach was ready for their next adventure. As usual, Geralt mounted the horse, but that was where the routine ended. Usually, Jaskier just followed along on foot. He already wasn’t looking forward to that, this pressure inside of him, but then, Geralt held out his hand.

“Care to ride with me?” Geralt asked, a knowing smirk on his face.

Jaskier’s face flushed, but he couldn’t refuse. He took Geralt’s hand and let Geralt pull him up onto Roach’s back. Jaskier had the privileged place of sitting in front of Geralt, his back to Geralt’s chest and their hips slotted together. The second he was seated, though, Jaskier squeaked.

“You can handle it,” Geralt told him, wrapping his arms around Jaskier’s waist to grab the reins. “You’re a  _ good boy _ after all, aren’t you?”

Jaskier shuddered at the praise. He was desperate for it. He needed it. He would only get it at the end of their game, and apparently, there was no end in sight.

**Author's Note:**

> 𓆏 Froge Bounces 𓆏  
> [Check me out on Tumblr!](https://tantumuna.tumblr.com)  
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> 


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